Where There’s Blayze

Years ago, during my college days at Cliff College, I had a rather eye-opening experience about sacrifice, one that taught me about loyalty and the cost of taking the hit for someone else. Cliff College, for context, is a bit like Hogwarts—minus the magic. Instead of studying spells and potions, we focused on theological debates, endless discussions about faith, and the art of reflecting on our past with a good amount of guilt. As a once “reformed” party guy, I entered college hoping to make a fresh start, aspiring to become, well, a sort of holy and fit Archbishop of Canterbury.

Every Tuesday, we had something called “Tuesday Celebration.” It was essentially a worship service in the middle of the week—Sunday church but on a Tuesday, because nothing says dedication like moving Sunday worship to the middle of the week. In my second year, I was asked to perform a comedy sketch for our end-of-term send-off, an event held just before everyone departed on their annual mission trips. Now, to be transparent, I wasn’t the first pick for this role, nor the second. I think they might have gone through the entire student directory before landing on my name. But I was honoured to be the last resort.

Determined to make an impact, I decided to turn my sketch into a satire of the year’s minor scandals and feuds. I figured a little self-deprecating humour would bring people together before they headed out to spread unity. The response was…mixed. Some lecturers seemed to appreciate it, while others looked like they’d just bitten into something sour. But I left feeling like I’d offered the college a small, clever moment of theological humour.

Fast forward to my final year. My friend Joe, a fresh-faced, enthusiastic first-year, was leading worship for Tuesday Celebration. Joe hadn’t seen my previous sketch, but he trusted me when I suggested we try something similar. Encouraging him, I said, “It’s guaranteed to make people laugh.” Together, we performed a sketch poking fun at recent college controversies, thinking it would be lighthearted and relatable.

Initially, the sketch seemed well-received. We got laughs, and we were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. But by the next morning, it was clear we’d stirred up more trouble than we’d intended. There was outrage—a level of uproar that soon led to a formal “discussion” in a lecturer’s office. I decided to take responsibility, hoping to shield Joe from any backlash. I explained that the whole thing was my idea and that Joe was just following my lead.

But Joe, ever loyal, refused to let me shoulder the blame alone. Despite my warnings, he insisted he was equally responsible. Ironically, his insistence led to a harsher punishment for him than I’d received. He had, in his determination to stand by me, taken the fall, and even more of it than I had intended. Reflecting on this, I realised the complexity of loyalty and sacrifice, and how sometimes, jumping onto someone else’s grenade doesn’t end the way we think it will.

What Does This Have to Do with Mark 12:28-34?

Stories like these, though lighthearted, can reveal deeper truths about sacrifice and its implications. In Mark 12:28-34, we find Jesus answering a scribe who asks which commandment is the most important. Jesus responds with a profound answer, drawing on Deuteronomy and Leviticus: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” and “You shall love your neighbour as yourself” (Mark 12:30-31, ESV). The scribe recognises that these commandments, these calls to love, are worth more than any burnt offerings and sacrifices.

Sacrifice is often at the heart of love. In John 15:13, Jesus teaches, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (ESV). While my college experience wasn’t a matter of life and death, it illustrated how sacrifice can be both noble and costly. Joe’s loyalty was so strong that he was willing to bear the consequence with me, but without knowing it, his insistence on joining me actually worsened his outcome. This is the paradox of sacrifice: sometimes, our intentions to shield others only work if we’re truly in a position to take the hit for them.

The Cost and Purpose of Sacrifice

Sacrifice is a concept that transcends religion. In day-to-day life, we make sacrifices for each other all the time, often in small but meaningful ways. We sacrifice our time to help a friend, put aside our preferences for family, or choose to save for the future instead of spending immediately. Sacrifice says, “I’m willing to lose something here to benefit someone else.”

In the Old Testament, sacrifices were deeply symbolic, often involving the loss of something significant to restore the balance of relationship with God. For instance, Leviticus 4:32-35 describes the sin offering, where a spotless lamb’s blood was sprinkled as an atonement for sins. These acts of sacrifice were meant to be physical reminders of a spiritual cost and the justice of God being satisfied in a way that still protected His people.

When Jesus talks about the greatest commandment in Mark, He connects it directly to love: “And to love him with all the heart and with all the understanding and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbour as oneself, is much more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices” (Mark 12:33, ESV). Jesus’s response to the scribe emphasises that love for God and neighbour stands above the ritualistic sacrifices of the Old Testament. The scribe is perceptive, understanding that love is the heart of the law, and Jesus commends him, saying, “You are not far from the kingdom of God” (Mark 12:34, ESV). However, he still misses the greater point: that Jesus Himself is the ultimate sacrifice, the fulfilment of all the Old Testament offerings.

Understanding the Final Sacrifice

The scribe understood that sacrifices were valuable, but he hadn’t yet recognised that Jesus was the final, ultimate sacrifice for our sins. The New Testament frames Jesus as the “atoning sacrifice,” as 1 John 2:2 tells us, meaning He took on our sins so that we might live free from them. In a way, Joe and I found ourselves in a situation where my willingness to “take the fall” was met by his equal commitment to sharing the consequence—only, in this case, it was neither necessary nor effective.

Sacrifice, when we look at Jesus, has a purpose and a promise. He takes on the penalty meant for us, becoming the final sacrifice so that we no longer have to bear the ultimate cost of sin. It’s a completed act, covering us if we choose to step into it and live under His grace. Joe’s loyalty was genuine, but in refusing my attempt to shield him, he missed out on the intended benefit. Similarly, when we attempt to “earn” something that Jesus has already given freely, we risk missing the covering He offers.

Embracing Sacrifice with Jesus at the Center

True sacrifice, as shown by Jesus, is anchored in love and results in freedom. While we’re called to make sacrifices in our lives, it’s not to prove our worth or loyalty to God, Jesus has already done that for us. Instead, we’re invited to love God fully and love our neighbours as ourselves, entering into a life that embraces the sacrifice Jesus has already made on our behalf.

So let’s remember: while our own sacrifices may help others, the ultimate sacrifice has already been made. We’re not called to jump onto grenades of our own making, but to live under the grace of Jesus’s finished work. In this, we find true love, loyalty, and freedom.